


Resonance

by emily_420



Category: Gintama
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3837409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emily_420/pseuds/emily_420
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two similar motives come together, twist and intertwine, and Bansai finds new purpose. </p><p>A look into Bansai's character and how he may have met Takasugi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resonance

**Author's Note:**

> this is only very very mildly shippy so i'm not tagging it as such but i wrote it with the intent that it was to be a preface to takaban, so take it that way if you want to
> 
> [tumblr](http://agendermura.tumblr.com/post/117597272220/title-resonance-fandom-pairing-gintama-none)

Bansai met Takasugi back when he was still in with small, punk Joui factions, playing music and killing people in his free time, or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, he was a bit aimless, a bit lost, living day to day, week to week, never further than that. Hanging out in the wrong places with the wrong people. Not that it felt wrong, Bansai had never exactly been on the right side of the law, but they weren't right for him, not when he had to force conversation, not when he could tell he was wasting his time. If only he'd had a purpose outside of pleasure, he'd take it up; lobbying the government was all well and good but he had the sense that it did nothing, changed nothing, and if he were to dedicate himself to a cause he wanted to be assured that he'd succeed, that it would be worthwhile.

Since he knew the group he was with was using terrorism as a guise, a pretence under which they could let off some steam, Bansai half-assed his participation, joining in when they did anything interesting but otherwise keeping his mouth shut. He still had music, which was his first love, anyway, and he played around but only really for the money. Bansai never really cared about sharing his music, didn't mind if he was the only one who heard it. When you hear music everywhere, from everyone, every day, it becomes very commonplace; just like everyone around him, he played his music, and people who could would hear him.

Takasugi heard him with finely attuned ears.

It was a moonlit night, pleasantly warm, and Bansai had just finished killing some fool who'd tried to perform tsujigiri on him down by the riverbank. That people were even still doing that was a bit laughable; you could get cold drinks from machines on every street, nowadays; there were noisy, clunky vessels of pollution careening around every corner, parked on every curb; there were ships floating, _floating_ in the sky, visible at all times; and yet people still clung to old ways. Bansai himself was guilty of that, he still had his shamisen over a guitar, which was increasingly popular, and he refused to change his way of speaking, no matter how outdated it may have been. But he could recognise where he needed to move on, where some things were better, and considered himself better for it.

As he contemplated that, flicking blood off his blade and eyeing the corpse with distaste, a voice behind him spoke up.

“That was pretty clean.”

Bansai hadn't noticed him, hadn't heard his song because he'd been to wrapped up in his own sound, riding the crashing wave of it as his sword cut into flesh. He inwardly chided himself for that; usually Bansai prided himself on being incredibly perceptive. “Some would say that killing is never clean,” he said, cautious, not taking his eyes from the prone body on the ground.

“You'd disagree with them, though, wouldn't you?”

Bansai turned to look at him. Dark hair, a fake, sardonic smile, a nice kimono, a pipe in hand, idly smoking. He looked like he belonged to the moonlight, like it'd be odd to see him during the day. He was watching Bansai with eyes as careful as Bansai's ears, smile not reaching. Bansai guessed that he probably wore his smile in the same way Bansai wore his sunglasses; a shield, a way of distracting from their thoughts, their motives. “Do I know you?” Bansai asked, a question he knew the answer to. If he'd heard a song like that before, he'd surely have remembered, it was so striking.

“I know of you,” he said, dragging on his pipe. “Kawakami Bansai... a musician and a killer. Interesting combination.”

“Is it?” Banasi sheathed his sword in his shamisen. “I think you'll find they go quite well together.”

He laughed, high and thin and not entirely true. “Takasugi Shinsuke,” he said, bringing his pipe back to his lips, an amused look taking him over.

Bansai had heard that name. One of the four big-names of the war, he led a volunteer army and was said to have strength that rivalled that of the Shiroyasha. Struggling to think of a reason such a person would be talking to him, Bansai said, “I know of you.” Takasugi laughed again, and Bansai said, “Quite daring to be walking around so plainly. The bakufu is after your head, I daresay.”

“And the rest of me, too, _I_  daresay.” Takasugi blew out a stream of smoke. “But let's not talk about me. You're wasting your time with those small factions.”

Bansai knew that, took no offence. “Yes,” he said simply.

“You want to do more, don't you? You wish you could topple the government, reduce it to ashes. I can see that you have the potential for such passion.. Why do you not act on it?”

“Because I'm wasting my time.” Takasugi looked at him oddly, and Bansai continued, “These guys are going anywhere with their politics. They don't even have the motivation to take serious action. Getting invested in their activities would be a waste of passion. If I found a worthwhile leader, that'd be a different story, I daresay.”

“That's interesting,” Takasugi said, “because I'm setting about reforming the Kiheitai right now and I need members.”

“And your goal would be...?”

“Naturally, destroying the bakufu... along with the rest of this worthless world.”

Bansai had to stop himself from laughing, not because he thought that such a goal was unachievable, but out of relief. Here was someone who was actually angry; as he spoke Takasugi's song deepened, grew more complex and discordant. It spoke of unrest, of rage and hurt, and Bansai believed him, believed that he wouldn't stop until the government was a pathetic pile of cinders to be forgotten by history. Bansai could already tell that he would follow this man, would give himself up to his ambition, but he could pretend otherwise for a little longer. “Ambitious,” he commented dryly.

“Perhaps. But I'm not stopping until it's done, and to that end I need to build up the strength of my organisation. I need your strength, Bansai.”

 _First name already_ , Bansai thought, but he didn't hate it, and the intimacy it leant Takasugi's words only served to convince him further. Maybe that was deliberate, maybe Takasugi was just that kind of person; Bansai suspected that he'd never truly be able to tell. “I won't give up my music,” he said.

“That's fine,” Takasugi said, smiling. He'd expected Bansai to agree, and somehow that didn't irritate him. “I dabble in it myself. Shall we have a duet some time?”

Takasugi turned as if to leave, and Bansai walked, unthinkingly, over to him, falling into step. “I don't see why not,” he said, and in that moment their songs were in harmony.


End file.
